


Bar-to-Bar

by PanicFOB



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1950s, Circus AU... sort of, F/M, Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 01:08:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21153065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanicFOB/pseuds/PanicFOB
Summary: Leaving your miserable marriage, leaving your home country, spontaneously accepting an invite to hop onto a circus train: it all leads you to the mysterious trapeze artist named James who has a metal arm.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired a tiny bit by the book Water for Elephants. Parts two and three will both be posted tomorrow :) Leave a comment if you enjoyed this first part, please!

Your life had come to a crossroads. Two diverging tracks stretched out before you. If you had taken the path east to Sweden, there’s no telling how your life might have turned out. Perhaps you would have found peace in Gothenburg or serenity in Stockholm. The city of Uppsala might have been waiting for you with the promise of calm. Instead, you followed the path headed west, aiming for the madness of Moscow.

In the 1950s, if a woman desired freedom from her husband, she had to do something drastic like flee the country. Helsinki, Finland had been your home throughout childhood, your teenage years, the heavy stress that hung over Europe during the wartime, and your short-lived bliss as a newlywed. It was your father’s country, and there was a time when you would never have imagined leaving it. That time was long gone.

Your mother was a born New Yorker. Your aunt and uncle had sailed to the city of immigration many years prior to your existence, and your father had traveled to New York once or twice to visit his dearly missed sister. It was then that he met your mother and convinced her to return to Finland with him. You were born barely a year later in 1927.

You got married at the age of 19, which was one year after the conclusion of World War II. He was a man named Olavi, four years your senior. In the beginning, he made you feel like the prettiest little thing in the world. In the end, he made every single one of your days turn to grey, and you knew you would never see color again until you were hundreds of miles away from him. You doubted he would mourn your disappearance. There hadn’t been any love between the two of you since 1948.

The moment the train conductor announced that you were leaving Finland and entering the Soviet Union, you breathed the deepest sigh of relief. The geopolitical problems affecting the country didn’t really matter to you. All you cared about was getting out from under the thumb of that cruel man. You were determined to start a new life for yourself, and Moscow seemed as good a city for that as any.

Sometimes, a crossroads isn’t about a choice of direction, but a choice of mode of transport. This was the sort of crossroads you encountered at the station in St. Petersburg.

There had been a delay for the next train to Moscow. You would have to sleep overnight on a rickety station bench, only your thick coat to keep you warm against the frosty night air. Not to mention, 1954 still wasn’t a good year in any country for a woman to be out and alone at night. It was concerning, but really, you didn’t have another option. Or so you thought.

You decided to stay awake throughout the night, attempting to read the novel you had packed by the dreadfully dim light of a station lamp. As your eyes scanned over words you had read a hundred times, words written by the brilliant Charlotte Bronte, your ears picked up the distinct whistle of a train coming into the station. It certainly intrigued you because the schedule hadn’t listed any passenger train arrivals until morning. You supposed it might be a cargo train.

It turned out to be something you would have never imagined. A circus train. You watched as all sorts of strange people climbed down from the cars. Some of them were taller than any person you had ever seen. Most of them wore colorful and flashy clothing. They were a loud bunch: laughing, joking, and pushing each other around. They didn’t seem to have a care about the possible presence of other station dwellers.

You’d been so focused on watching each unique individual descend from the train that you hadn’t noticed a woman approaching you. She wore a long coat, but it wasn’t buttoned, and you could see her bright pink and purple fitted clothes underneath. Her hair was very dark and hung in purple tendrils. She was tall and slim, looked to be quite athletic. You guessed she might be some sort of gymnast or acrobat. She took a seat next to you on the bench.

“Waiting for your husband to join you, miss?”

“I’m traveling alone, actually,” you told her.

“I was afraid that might be the case. Surely a wise-looking woman such as yourself knows the dangers of traveling alone.”

“I do… but I didn’t have any other options.”

“Ah, the opportunity-lacking life of a woman. I can certainly empathize.” She smiled at you. Her teeth weren’t perfect, but her face was so pretty that her smile still seemed rather nice. She offered her right hand for you to shake. “My name is Vera.”

You took it. “You can call me Y/N.”

“Where are you traveling, Y/N?”

“Moscow.”

Her smile broadened. “Well, look at that. You just found yourself an opportunity after all.”

“What do you mean?”

“The circus is headed to Moscow! We can take you there… unless you want to take the risk of getting attacked or robbed before the next train in the morning?”

You glanced around at Vera’s fellow performers ambling about the station. They looked friendly enough for the most part. However, one menacing looking man caught your attention and prevented you from immediately agreeing to the woman’s offer. He wore a black leather coat, but it only had one sleeve. On his left side hung an arm made entirely of metal with a red star painted on his bicep. His hair was long, almost past his shoulders, and the darkest shade of brown. His face wore a deep-set grimace, giving you the impression that this man had never smiled a day in his life.

Vera followed your line of sight. “Oh, don’t worry about him. That’s just James, my trapeze partner. He keeps to himself mostly.”

You looked back at her, trying to find anything other than the truth lurking in her eyes, but only honesty was shining through. She leaped up from the bench.

“We won’t be here much longer. Just stopped to resupply. So you better make your decision quickly.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath in and envisioning the crossroad. For some reason, doing this made the choice so obvious for you. You’d left your husband in the search of madness and color; there was no better place to find those things than a circus train.

You stood quickly, grabbing the small bag you carried of your few belongings, and motioned for Vera to lead the way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part three will be going up later today! Please let me know what you think of this second installment :)

Vera had come up with a quick lie to get you on board, saying that you were one of the newly hired cooks. You’d agreed to it because you were rather good with food, and you figured, if tested, you could easily convince the bosses that it was true. She’d shown you to the women’s sleeping car and found you a spare bunk to set down your things and eventually get some sleep in. But everything was far too exciting right now for you to even dream of sleeping.

She introduced you to each one of her many friends that you encountered while walking the length of the train. Most of them were kind and welcoming. The only unfriendly people seemed to be the older individuals who did the grunt work for the circus, like shoveling animal shit. You learned that most of the cooks were women in their 50s and 60s. If you did actually join them, you would be an oddity at 27.

Vera soon informed you that Moscow wasn’t actually the very next destination. She said the circus had to stop in Valdai first for a week’s worth of shows. As she led you through the dining car in search of something for the both of you to eat, you overheard a man with a confident voice bragging about the Soviet circus that you had suddenly become a part of.

“Six rings. Tell me another country that has a traveling circus with six rings, Dimitri. Certainly not those pathetic Americans, that’s for sure. They can barely manage a measly three rings.”

“I heard the art of The Big Top is dying over there anyway,” his friend, you assumed Dimitri, replied.

“Probably because they’re so lazy now, sitting in front of their shiny new television sets. Can’t be bothered to leave the house and go to a show anymore.”

“Don’t listen to anything he says,” Vera whispered to you. “That’s Leonid, the most arrogant bastard on this train. Thinks his cock is the size of an elephant trunk simply because he can breathe fire and dance with the lions. I figure it’s barely the size of my pinky finger.”

You snorted in amusement at her remark.

The two of you each grabbed a plate of bland-looking food from the lunch counter and sat down at an empty table on the opposite side of the room from Leonid and Dimitri.

“So,” you said in-between bites, “Leonid works with the lions and can breathe fire. What’s Dimitri do?”

Vera made a disgusted face. “He trains the bears. It’s a rather cruel business. You have to be heartless to do it.”

You understood what she meant and looked down at your plate with a frown. Even the wonder and captivation of a circus came with its own form of cruelty.

“What about you and James? Do you only do trapeze?”

“That’s all I do. James does loads of things though. He’s sort of the star of the show. Trapeze artist. Gymnast. Knife throwing marksman. Strongman.”

“Strongman? What’s that mean?”

“He can lift an entire car over his head without breaking a sweat.”

Your eyebrows raised to your hairline in shock. “Is it because of his metal arm?” you asked.

“I’m sure that certainly helps,” Vera answered, “but between you and me, I think he’s superhuman like…”

“Like Captain America was?”

By this point, everyone in the world knew the story of the Brooklyn-born boy turned nation’s hero. It had spread like wildfire after the war had ended. You were pretty sure Steve Rogers had been the only man to receive the serum, but you supposed it was possible that others had been injected and kept secret. You couldn’t imagine James being one of those secrets, however. There’s no way a government experiment would end up traveling with the Moscow State Circus.

You slept nearly the whole way to Valdai. As soon as the train stopped, the passengers were a blur of hustle and bustle. You learned by an explanation from your new friend that each stop began with the ground workers setting up the rings and the tents as quickly as possible. This provided the places for performer rehearsals and animal menageries, giving both the people and the beasts the ability to stretch out a bit more than they normally could on the train. The tents had been erected and looked perfectly pristine by the next nightfall.

There was no show that first night, and Vera asked you if you’d like to watch her rehearsals. You didn’t have anything better to do, still trying to avoid having to actually pitch in your help in the kitchen. You followed her to the main tent, the Chaptiteau as the Soviets liked to call it. James was already there when the two of you arrived. He seemed to be the only one here, the other circus members probably finding standard rehearsals pretty boring to watch by this point.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt, his muscled chest and abdomen shouting for your attention. You silently begged yourself not to stare. The place where is metal arm met scarred shoulder was on full display as well. You tried not to stare at that either. Covering his thick legs were simple black tights. You wondered if this was just practice attire or if he graced all the circus guests with this gloriously revealing outfit.

James gave you a simple “Hello” in greeting before turning to Vera and listing off a dozen tricks they needed to go over in preparation for the following night’s event. You sat at a front-row bench, hands clasped nervously in your lap as you watched the two of them climb ladders that seemed to reach to the heavens. They were on opposite sides, a trapeze in front of each of them, and a flimsy-looking net waiting to catch them way below.

They grabbed their respective swings and pushed off from the platforms at the same time. Your nervousness for their wellbeing dispersed instantly as you watched them dance beautifully in mid-air. They were both professionals, clearly well-practiced at this spectacular art. They flipped and tossed each other across the empty space, always so confident that the hands of the other would be there to catch them. Vera did elaborate splits between flips, and James showed off by only hanging on with one hand half the time.

You could tell their routine was winding down, and your heart nearly stopped when you watched as Vera spun gracefully through the air, nosedived, and then rolled at the last minute, landing happily on the net. Meanwhile, James had let go of his bar at the same time, his back turned to the opposite bar at first, but when Vera dropped below him, he twisted through the air in what seemed like a hundred rotations. And then he was safely grabbing onto the bar that Vera had just abandoned.

It was phenomenal, and if you had believed in love at first sight or that sort of thing, you might have thought you’d fallen in love with him right then. You knew it couldn’t really be love. You’d hardly said a word to the man. But he was stunning and impressively talented. Mysterious, but his eyes looked so kind. You vowed to get to know James better, to unravel his mystery.

If you had been in awe over trapeze rehearsals, well, it was nothing compared to the magic that was the entire show on an actual performance night. All of these people had such strange talents, but they were wonderful, and you found yourself feeling so ordinary in comparison to the spectacular things that they could do. Vera hadn’t been exaggerating when she said that James could lift an entire car over his head. You studied him closely for a strain in his muscles or a bead of sweat running down his temple, but they weren’t there. He made it look effortless.

After all the acts had performed their parts and the guests had gone home with that whimsical feeling in their hearts, the circus members brought out the alcohol to celebrate the first successful night in Valdai. Of course, the only drink anyone seemed to have on hand was Vodka; it was the Soviet Union after all. You weren’t complaining; rather, you were embracing this chance to get a little tipsy in a joyful setting. Anytime you’d taken to the glass while married to Olavi had been a miserable attempt to escape your troubles.

James was the only one who seemed to have no desire to drink. As all the exhausted performers gathered in the main tent, dancing around and already drunk enough to slur their sentences, James sat alone at a bench on the outskirts of the tent, fiddling with one of the knives he had used in the throwing performance. You approached him.

His head snapped up in your direction when you got close, and you tried your best at a friendly smile. You gave him a wave that you hoped said: “I come in peace.” He didn’t say a word as you sat down next to him. You thought for a long moment of what you should say, not wanting to broach any subjects that might have been taboo.

After nearly ten minutes went by, he broke the silence. “Vera said you’re a new cook, but I haven’t seen you in the kitchen preparing food at all.”

You blushed a bit, having been called out for the lie you and your friend had been telling. “Uh, I really just needed a ride to Moscow, and Vera used that as an excuse to get me on the train.”

“What’s waiting for you in Moscow?” You barely heard his question because you were so focused on the lovely shade of blue in his eyes.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing really.”

“Then why are you going there?”

“It’s more that I’m running away from something.”

You didn’t think he was going to respond to that at all, but then your ears picked up the quietest “Me too.”

You smiled at him. Maybe getting to know him wouldn’t be so difficult after all. “Would you like to go for a walk with me, James?”

“It’s pretty cold out. You’ll freeze, miss…”

“Y/N. You can call me Y/N. And I have my coat. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” He slipped on the thin jacket that had been sitting in his lap, and you wondered if his body temperature was just as abnormal or superhuman as the rest of him.

When the two of you were outside in the quiet, away from the commotion of a partying circus troop, you let all the questions flood your mind once again. You had so many things you wanted to ask him, but you had no idea where to start. Eventually, you decided on “What are you running from?”

“My captors,” he said without looking at you.

That had been the furthest thing from what you expected. “Your captors?! You were held prisoner?”

“I don’t remember much… I have amnesia, but I know that the people who gave me this arm and who made me as strong as I am were using me. Like a tool or a weapon for their own evil agendas. Then, one day they decided they didn’t need me anymore. They tried to put me down like a sick dog, but I suppose they didn’t consider how invincible to death they had made me. I escaped. Wondered around the Soviet Union for a while until I came across a circus train.”

“Do you remember anything from before you were held captive?”

“I remember the name James, so that’s what I go by. For some reason, I remember the city of Brooklyn very vividly, but I don’t have any recollections of actually being there. That’s it. Nothing else.”

A shiver went down your spine at the thought. You couldn’t imagine losing all the memories of your life, even the bad ones. You felt so sad for James.

“You’re cold,” he said, mistaking your shiver to be one from the cold air rather than his haunting story.

He put his arm around your shoulders, and the intense heat of his body enveloped you. “Is this okay?” he asked.

You nodded your head in affirmation.

“What are you running from?”

“A terrible husband.”

“Did he abuse you?”

“Not physically. But verbally and emotionally.”

He gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s okay. I’ll never have to see him again now.”

You realized James had been slowly leading you towards the women’s train car. He was making sure you made it “home” safe. It was rather sweet.

“James, can we do this again tomorrow? After the show?”

You watched the tiniest little lift of the corner of his lips. It was the most emotion you’d seen him express so far. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was good enough. “Same time, same place,” he confirmed.

You decided to bite the bullet and assist the cooks with breakfast the next morning. You snuck some extra salt and pepper into the eggs, some extra honey into the porridge, and made sure to get the potatoes extra crispy. You hoped it would make the meal a little more edible compared to those of previous days.

It turned out that James was an early riser and one of the first people to make it into the dining car to eat breakfast. He scarfed down the contents of his plate in a matter of seconds. You watched with a bit of amusement. Once you’d finished up in the kitchen, you grabbed your own plate and joined him at his table.

“How’d you sleep?” you inquired as to a way of making small talk.

“Fine,” was all he said. You supposed he wasn’t in the mood for conversation and went back to scooping porridge into your mouth.

He rose from the table soon after, mumbling a “see you later” before exiting the dining car. You wondered if you had offended him somehow.

That night’s show was much the same as the night before, but it didn’t make it any less amazing. Each fabulous display, each impossible trick still left you with goosebumps. Of course, James’ stunts captivated you the most. His display of summersaults and twisty flips across the ring floor made your head dizzy with delight. This routine could only be topped by the one he did with Vera up in the air. His knife throwing was thrilling but perfectly precise. It made your heart beat fast in fear for the woman he was aiming around, but at the same time, you had no doubt that James was far too skilled to ever accidentally hit her.

He stayed true to his word and met you outside of the tent for a walk while the others celebrated with vodka. He automatically put his arm around you this time without a word. You’d thought about what you would say to him all day, so you knew exactly how you wanted to start the conversation.

“My mother was from Brooklyn.”

You felt him stiffen a bit. His silence seemed to stretch on for hours before he said, “You grew up there?”

“No. My father is from Finland. He brought my mother back there after they met. That’s where I grew up.”

“Oh… I wish I could remember where I grew up.”

“You don’t think it’s Brooklyn? Surely if you remember it in such detail, it must be your true home?”

“I don’t know. I think if I had grown up there I would be able to remember something about my childhood when Brooklyn comes to mind. Instead, it’s like I’m seeing the city as a ghost.”

“Have you ever thought about traveling there? It might refresh some memories.”

“No. I’m comfortable enough here in the circus. I don’t want to lose that by traveling to someplace that I might have never been before.”

You furrowed your brow. It seemed that James wasn’t only afraid of a new place but maybe just as scared of his memories actually resurfacing. He was afraid to know himself, to learn what he might have been in his former life. You decided not to push the topic.

“What’s one good memory that you have James? Anything other than imprisonment before you joined the circus?”

You could tell he was thinking, trying to come up with any moment that might have made him happy. “No,” he answered after a moment.

“Do you remember ever kissing a woman?” The words were out of your mouth before you had really thought about them. Your face turned a bright shade of red.

He chuckled. An actual laugh came from those lips, and you couldn’t believe it. The sound was so lovely, so pleasant to your ears. All you ever wanted to do was make James laugh again.

“No. I don’t remember that at all,” he said honestly.

You noticed that you were drawing near to your designated train car. It was now or never. “Looks like it’s time to create a good memory then…”

“What do you mean?”

You leaned your head up and kissed him soundly, wiping the confusion from his lips. He didn’t wrap his arms around you, but you felt the slight movement of his mouth against yours. He was kissing you back, and you were enjoying it.


	3. Chapter 3

James wasn’t in the dining car early the next morning. You decided to join Vera for breakfast and continued to ask her random questions about the inner-workings of circus life. She was happy to tell you anything you wanted to know. She even told you a bit about her childhood, how she had grown up in an orphanage, never had much interest in school, and hadn’t found her true joy in life until her first time climbing that ladder to the trapeze bar. You could tell when she spoke about it that being a performer was something she truly loved, and you hoped she would continue to do it for as long as she was able.

Almost to the bottom of your bowl of porridge, you nearly choked in surprise when James suddenly sat down at the table next to you.

“Hi,” you greeted him nervously. You weren’t sure how he was feeling about you since that kiss you’d shared last night.

“Good morning, ladies,” he answered with a nod. He then began shoveling his breakfast into his mouth just as quickly as the day before.

Vera gave you a quizzical glance, clearly wondering what this strange turn of events was about, but you really had no idea what to say to her. You hadn’t expected James to join the two of you for breakfast either. You shrugged and went back to your porridge.

Once his plate was empty, James cleared his throat. “I plan to walk into the city today to buy myself a new pair of boots. I was wondering if you would like to join me, Y/N?”

Your eyes flicked to Vera who was wearing a delighted look on her face now. You felt your cheeks getting a bit hot, but you persevered. You flashed James your best smile and said, “I’d like that.”

The center of the city was about a half-hour walk from where the circus train was parked. You and James walked side by side, and you felt a bit awkward taking a stroll with him like this in broad daylight. All your hours together so far had been under the cover of nightfall. Your heart soared though when your left hand brushed up against his right, and he promptly held it.

“Jesus, your hands are like ice,” he said. “Don’t you have any gloves?”

You could only shake your head. When you had fled Finland, you’d packed whatever could fit in your small bag, which wasn’t much, and you’d barely managed to get away with enough money for travel and food to survive.

“I’ll buy you some while we’re in town.”

You’d never exactly been a proud woman, but it did feel a little humiliating to have a man you’d barely met buying winter garments for you. “I couldn’t ask you to do that,” you told him honestly.

“You didn’t ask. I offered. It’ll only get colder until spring. You need some gloves or you’ll get frostbite.”

“I don’t see you wearing gloves.”

He gave you an amused look, that tiny crooked curve appearing at the edge of his mouth. “I think we both know that my body runs at a different temperature than most people’s.”

You let out a defeated noise. “Fine, you can buy me the damn gloves, James.”

He squeezed your hand teasingly, “Don’t be so upset about it, doll…”

You stopped walking and looked at him. “Doll? Where’d that come from?”

“I… I don’t know. I can’t remember ever using that pet name before. It just sort of slipped out, like it was natural to say.”

You could only stare at him because, well, during the war, American troops would wander into Helsinki every once and a while. When they were trying to chat up a pretty woman, there was one word they used more than any other. Doll.

You knew James must be from America. From Brooklyn. Why else would he remember it? And it seemed even more likely that he had been a soldier, captured by the Russian army sometime near the end of the war. It was so apparent, yet you weren’t sure if James would appreciate you pointing any of it out to him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he questioned.

“Just seemed like a very American thing to say,” you answered vaguely as you started walking again.

You made it into town soon after, and James easily found a men’s shoe shop. He selected a pair of black leather, combat looking boots, almost identical to the worn-out ones currently on his feet. He dragged you to a women’s winter wear store next, and you reluctantly tried on various sets of knit gloves before selecting a beautiful shade of red. It was close to the color of James’ red star.

When the two of you neared a small restaurant, James insisted on buying you lunch. The smell of the Pirozhkis that he procured made your mouth water. You were already so sick of the bland train food, and the golden-crusted pasty stuffed with meats and cheeses and potatoes was a whole other level of culinary amazement.

It was as you tried to subtly lick the flavorful grease from your fingertips that you realized this was a date. James had asked you on a date, and you had said yes. It was the first date you had been on since you were nineteen and Olavi was trying to win your hand in marriage. This one was much nicer than that one had been. Despite James knowing almost nothing about his past, you knew in your heart that he was a far better man than your husband had ever been.

After the show that night, you and James decided to remain in the big tent, sitting closely together on a bench far enough away from the crowd that you could still converse. The circus band was playing tonight, fingers working over their instruments in a flurry, and the music they produced left you feeling both elated and romantic. Somehow, the decision to come west had been a brilliant one, and you were certain by this point that you would never regret meeting James.

“What’ll you do once you get to Moscow?” James asked you as his metal hand ran teasingly up and down your right knee.

“I have no idea,” you admitted.

“Why stop there then? Why not continue on with the circus indefinitely?”

It was a good question. Vera was a wonderful new friend. James was… well James was something else. All the other circus members didn’t seem to be bothered by your presence. You probably could stay on forever as a cook if you so desired. But as much as you loved the color and the madness that flowed through every inch of these tents and the train that carried them, you knew deep down that it wasn’t where you truly belonged. You had to get off somewhere, and so you planned to stick with your original goal of re-settling in Moscow.

The only problem was you didn’t know if you had it in your heart to say goodbye to the mysterious man sitting next to you.

The goodnight kiss was more heated this time. You weren’t sure who leaned in first when you made it to the train car, but when your lips did meet, it was a scorching union. James’ hands were pulling your hips close to his this time, and you thought he must be just as starved for intimacy as you were. It had been many years since you’d slept with your husband.

He pulled away before things got too out of hand, clearly not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. You were thankful for his manners, wanting to feel his body against yours so badly, but not wanting to make a fool of yourself after only knowing him for less than a week.

The remainder of the days in Valdai flew by. You spent laboring hours in the kitchen, trying your best to make the food good for the hard-working performers. You still attended each nightly spectacle, taking in every detail like it would be the last time you’d ever see it. Your nightly talks with James became more open, more trusting. He slowly learned the whole story of your life, and when you spoke about your husband, you could see the fire burning in his eyes that promised he would never treat you so poorly as Olavi had.

You became more comfortable with asking him about his imprisonment, inquiring about the people who controlled him, the evil things they forced him to do. He told you bits and pieces, but it was clear that his memory must have been erased somehow on multiple occasions because his information was very choppy and lacking much detail.

You became more vulnerable to each other in the physical sense as well. It grew harder and harder to pull apart after each intense kissing session, and you knew it was only a matter of time before things escalated to sex. The man was unbelievably gorgeous after all, and he seemed to find you just as irresistible for some reason.

Each night, when Vera would return to her bed right next to yours after the party, she’d ask if you and James had fucked yet.

You’d always answer with an indignant snort and a shake of your head.

The final night in Valdai was when you discovered that James had his own private room on the train. He was pretty much the star of the show, so it made sense. He led you there while everyone else was distracted by music and booze.

He had so many talents; it was no surprise that sex was just another one of the things James was phenomenal at. He had your heart racing the same way it did when he threw his knives. Left you feeling as impressed as when he performed his gymnastics floor routine. Had you looking up at him with awestruck disbelief the same way you would while he lifted that car. Made you fall in love with him the same way you did when you watched him fly through the air, bar-to-bar, on the trapeze.

You fell asleep peacefully in his arms.

But you awoke in a fright. James was sitting straight up in bed, panting heavily.

“What is it? Are you all right?” you asked as you rubbed your hand softly against his tense back.

“A nightmare. A memory.”

“A memory? What did you remember, James?”

He didn’t speak for many more deep breaths, until eventually, he muttered, “Falling from a train.”

Your stomach suddenly felt sick. Surely he hadn’t really suffered something so tragic. Surely it was only a nightmare. But then again, how had he lost his arm?

“Did you remember anything else?”

“Only a name…”

“What name?”

“Steve.”

“Does that name mean anything to you, James?”

“It was what I screamed as I fell… all the way down. Other than that, I have no idea.”

It was all so puzzling, and you had no real strategy for coaxing out more memories or easing the pain of this one. It was still the middle of the night, so you encouraged James to lie back down, and you held him close until he fell back asleep. You lay awake the rest of the night with a racing mind.

As quickly as the circus had been brought to the city of Valdai, it disappeared. Tents were gone, leaving only large circular impressions on the bare ground. Once the last crewmember stepped aboard, the train took off toward Moscow in a hurry.

You sat with Vera and James in the lounge car, trying your best to breathe through the thick smoke of cigars. Your friend knew that something sinful had transpired between you and her trapeze partner the night before simply by the fact that you’d never returned to your own bed.

“Does this mean you’re not getting off at Moscow?” she asked hopefully.

You bit your lip, truly not wanting to hurt her feelings. You hadn’t quite worked it all out in your head yet. You didn’t want to separate from James, but something was telling you that you couldn’t stay on this train forever. It just wasn’t where you were meant to be. You only hoped that you’d see him again on the rare occasions that the circus returned to Moscow.

Before you could give her the unfortunate answer, James spoke up. “No, it means we’re both getting off at Moscow now.”

“What?!” you and Vera both exclaimed in unison.

“I’ve been thinking for a while that the circus is great and all, but I’ll never get my memories back by traveling in circles around The Soviet Union. So, I figured I’d try Moscow with you for a while, and then when we’re ready, maybe you could go searching with me for all the pieces of my life that I’ve lost?”

His steel-blue eyes looked the tiniest bit nervous that you might reject him, that you might say don’t bother getting off this train. You leaned forward and kissed him, not caring how many other people were currently in the lounge. “That sounds wonderful,” you whispered.

When you looked back to Vera, she had tears streaming down her face. “Now I’m losing the both of you?” she sobbed.

You hugged her tightly and promised that this would not be the last time you ever saw each other. James apologized for leaving her high and dry on the trapeze bars.

When the train pulled into Moscow station, you and James stepped off with your hands intertwined and each clutching a small bag of belongings on the other side. You waved goodbye to Vera who watched from one of the windows. She blew you a friendly kiss and disappeared. As of now, your future plans consisted of finding a cheap hotel room with James, spending as many days as you wanted in bed, and eating as much food as the two of you could afford.

On the horizon. The madness of the sea. The cerulean color of the Atlantic Ocean. James’ memories waiting for him in Brooklyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, for a lovely surprise………. THERE WILL BE A SEQUEL!!! It will likely be 3 parts as well, but I will not be working on it until after Christmas or possibly the New Year. Until then, I hope this ending is satisfying enough. Thank you to everyone who has read it :)


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